Moments of Weakness
by small-but-strong
Summary: The Tracy family regularly deal with situations which require a show of strength and bravery. But what about those times where the family let their true feelings show?
1. An Accident

_An accident..._

He was always told he drove too fast. His Grandma, his father, his brothers, his friends...but when you push a car to its limits, floor the accelerator, watch the speedometer creeping up and up, it's hard to drive any other way.

This was Alan Tracy's last conscious thought, painfully clear over the crunch of metal slamming against metal, the scream of tyres against the tarmac, the sickening spinning until his car finally came to rest, battered and broken, much like it's driver.

Gordon shifted in his chair, trying to release the knot of pressure at the base of his spine without disturbing his father who stared almost hypnotically at the monitors showing the peaks of his youngest son's heart beat. He couldn't help the small gasp of pain as he felt his back click uncomfortably. Jeff turned at the sound, placing a strong hand on his shoulder and offering his free hand to help his son to his feet.

"I'm okay Dad," Gordon assured him as he straightened up, smiling at the pain disappeared. "Do you want a coffee or something? I need to stretch my legs." Jeff's gaze remained on his son for a moment longer before he nodded. Gordon looked over his shoulder as the left the ward, watching his father regain his composure, keeping vigil at Alan's bedside, just as he had when he had his accident some years previously.

Alan's accident has been the result of a head on collision, not on the race track, thank God. Still, a drunk driver had lost control, taking Alan and his car off the road as he'd swerved suddenly.

His father had his 'I'm calm' face at the ready when he received the phone call, but Gordon had watched his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles ghostly pale as he'd driven to the hospital. It was the only sign of his moment of weakness. His father was not one to show emotion in front of his sons having stayed solid to comfort five young boys as they grieved for their mother. Jeff kept every sigh, every tear inside.

Gordon wished at this moment, that any of his brothers would arrive. His father was too quiet, trying not to let any sign of the panic Gordon knew he felt show. But Gordon had resigned himself to being on his own with this one. Scott was on a tour of duty in North Korea, a peacekeeping assignment. John was currently Mars bound, in a deep sleep as his NASA team carried out the first manned mission to the red planet.

That left Virgil, who'd been MIA for a few weeks as he'd buried himself preparing to make a pitch to an influential engineering firm. It was a chance to turn his ideas and designs for state of the art rescue equipment into a reality and he didn't want to fluff his lines.

So, it was just him and his Dad. The girl behind the counter at the hospital cafe smiled brightly at him, despite the late hour as he ordered the two coffees in a dull tone.

"Hey, would you make that three?"

The warm, rich tones of Virgil's voice reached Gordon's ears and he couldn't help but smile, looking over his shoulder. Virgil was dressed in tatty jeans and a paint stained shirt under a worn leather jacket and Gordon could smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke as Virgil pulled him into a rough hug.

"Hey Virg," Gordon said as he pulled back, paying for the coffee's.

"Hey Gordo," he returned. Gordon took the two coffees with a small smile at the waitress as Virgil leaned in to take his.

"Thanks," he smiled as he took his own coffee, giving the girl a wink that made her cheeks colour furiously.

The brothers turned and began walking back towards the ward.

"So, how is Alan?" Virgil asked. Gordon sighed and half-shrugged.

"The doctors say he should wake up soon. They were worried about swelling in the brain following the head injury, but the scan said everything was okay."

"He's lucky," Virgil murmured. Gordon handed his father the coffee before Virgil followed in behind him. Jeff greeted Virgil with a hug, patting him manly on the back.

"How's business son?" he asked him.

"Same old...we got a commission on the new Denver fire service rescue equipment."

"Good work, your pitch?" Virgil nodded almost shyly as his father punched his shoulder lightly.

"That's my boy..."

"What about the other pitch Virg?" Gordon asked him. "Isn't it this week?"

"What other pitch?" Jeff asked, raising his eyebrows as Virgil shot Gordon a look which told him that particular information he'd shared wasn't for public knowledge just yet. Gordon smiled apologetically, knowing that the only reason Virgil had told him was that he was unable to contact Scott at that moment. Gordon was a poor substitute for his best friend.

"It's nothing Dad, I'll let you know about it when it's done..." Virgil shrugged, taking a seat on the other side of Alan's bed. Jeff took his place beside Alan, placing a worn hand on the smooth skin of Alan's.

"You looked exhausted Dad," Virgil commented after a moment. "Alan's okay and Gordon and I can keep an eye on him if you want to catch up with some sleep..."

"I'm fine Virgil..." Jeff sighed, although the stifled yawn disagreed. Gordon watched Virgil carefully as he nodded and drained the remainder of his coffee cup.

"Okay Dad, but I asked the ward sister if she had a spare bed for you, should it be needed. She says there is a room next door so you will be right beside Alan should anything happen." Virgil looked back at Alan, but Gordon knew he was keeping an eye on his father's reaction. For a few minutes, the only sound was the soft 'beep' of the machines monitoring Alan's vitals and the hushed whispers of the nurses working the night shift.

"You know, a nap does sound good right about now," Jeff said suddenly, breaking the silence. Gordon watched Virgil try to control the smile on his face.

"Sure Dad. We'll be right through when Alan wakes up," Virgil assured him. Gordon watched his father make his way to the ward next door and looked back at Virgil in awe.

"He needs some time away from this," Gordon said. "He was doing the gripping the steering wheel really tightly thing on the way here. I think Dad still thinks we need to be protected from all of this still and that he has to be the 'rock' in all of this. He forgets that we are all adults now sometimes." Virgil glanced over at the red head and laughed.

"With you and Al, I'm not surprised," he commented dryly. Gordon cracked a small sarcastic smile in his older brother's direction.

"He never shows us his moments of weakness," Virgil said after a while. "When we were younger, he used to go into his study after we were all asleep...that's when he would do his grieving. Away from us...he didn't want to upset us."

"How do you know?" Gordon asked in a hushed voice.

"Scott."

"Oh." Gordon looked back at Alan as he saw the blonde's eyelids twitch for a moment.

"Looks like he's waking up," Virgil said, pressing the button above the bed to alert the nurses and doctors on duty.

"Should we get Dad?" Gordon asked, getting to his feet.

"Nah. Give him some time out just now. He needs it."


	2. A Plan

_A plan..._

The smell of fresh cakeswafted out of the doorway of the Kansas farmhouse as John arrived, a suitcase in each hand, a broad smile on his face.

It was good to be home.

He pushed the door open with his elbow, dropping the suitcases with a flourish in the hallway as his Grandma came into the kitchen doorway, wiping flour from her hands against the chequered apron she had always worn, ever since John could remember.

"Darling," she sighed, opening her arms and drawing him into a fierce embrace. Her dry lips kissed his cheek before she held him back at arm's length, studying him for a moment.

"That space food isn't enough for a growing boy like you," she commented, taking his arm and leading him into the kitchen where almost every spare worktop surface was covered with a baked delight. He knew his brothers had huge appetites, but his Grandma had made enough to feed Scott's entire platoon, and some.

"Wow!" John exclaimed. "You've been busy..."

"Well, you know what Virgil's like about his cake. Alan requested an apple pie especially...we have to celebrate Gordon's latest victory..." John nodded, taking his chair at the dinner table, on the left hand side beside his father's place at the top of the table. Scott was always the right and beside him Virgil then Grandma. Gordon then Alan always sat on John's side.

"Would you like something to drink John?" she asked him, already busy boiling some water and digging through the cupboard looking for John's particular blend of coffee.

"Sure Grandma. Thanks."

Ruth Tracy turned away from her grandson, letting her bright and smiling face drop for just a moment. The strain of the previous night's conversation returned to her, the real reason the Tracy family were having an impromptu get together.

She and Jeff had shared a night cap, his a whisky on the rocks, hers a French brandy. He'd tentatively approached the subject of his 'grand plan'. His dreams of an organisation that would help everyone and anyone who required it.

"Could you imagine? State of the art equipment that could drill underground to people trapped in collapsed buildings, fire equipment that could stand huge temperatures, equipment that could move huge amounts of rubble..." He trailed off as Ruth placed her glass on the coffee table in front of them and smiled softly.

"It would be wonderful Jeff, but you are talking about equipment that doesn't exist. The technology to create such machines doesn't even exist!"

"I've met someone who believes it could be possible. A young man, blindly brilliant...he is a genius Mother and I think he is the key to making this a reality." Ruth Tracy nodded momentarily.

"And who would be manning these great machines Jeff?" she asked, although the fluttering in her stomach told her she already knew the answer. Jeff glanced up at her, a proud smile crossing his face.

"In our family we have a born leader, an Air Force pilot in Scott, an engineer in Virgil, an aquanaut in Gordon and two astronauts in Alan and John. John has already spent so long in space that I think he would be perfect to man the satellite that would be required to receive distress calls..." He stopped as he caught the pinched expression on his mother's face. She got up, turning away from him and looking for some distraction.

"It all sounds very noble Jeff," his mother spoke softly as she arranged the pillows on the sofa, "but you're dragging the boys into this without them even having anything of a say in the matter..."

"I will ask them Mother and they will have every right to say no to this, but..."

"Have you asked any of them?" his mother interrupted. Ruth Tracy stood no fools and she was not going to let her son become one of those. She had concerns over his behaviour after the untimely death of his wife and with one of his sons being involved in a near fatal accident, it seemed to have stirred these feelings once again.

"No..."

"No. Because you know Scott has the potential to be a great officer...possibly even more. John has worked so hard to get on the Mars missions, his dream...Gordon has recovered so well and is making a real name for himself in swimming, Virgil's being head hunted by every engineering firm in Denver and beyond and Alan looks likely to be starting his own career in NASA..."

"And it's these skills, these talents that make my boys perfect for this scheme...can't you see that?"

"Oh I have no doubts they are fantastic boys Jeff. I just don't think you should use them to bury the fact that sometimes, the ones we love most, get hurt. Your only weakness is that you dwell on what happened in the past. Accidents happen and as much as you wish you could change what happened, you can't."

"They could prevent all kinds of disasters Mother..."

"Do you know what my weakness if Jefferson?" Ruth interrupted him suddenly. Jeff stopped, aware that his mother was suddenly looking almost scared.

"Those boys." She pointed to the family portrait, now a number of years old, but still took pride of place above the fireplace.

"I don't think I understand..."

"I can deal with the huge numbers of mice we had in here last Christmas, moving on without your father, God rest him...but I just don't know what I'd do if something happened to one of those boys while out on one of these rescues you are dreaming up. Do you know how easily they could be injured, or worse?" Ruth paused, taking a shaky breath before Jeff got to his feet, moving towards his mother and reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I wouldn't allow it..." he said, feeling sick with uncertainty as he saw his mother's eyes shimmering with tears in the soft glow from the fire.

"But you understand...I have to put the ideas to the boys...I have to know..."

Ruth blinked as she heard the front door opening and the sounds of laughter drifting up the hallway. Gordon and Alan never arrived quietly. Shortly after, Scott and Virgil arrived together, both had the tell tale scent of beer on their breath, but Ruth chose not to chide them. She watched the brothers sharing jokes and playful punches, clearly delighted that they were all together for the first time in what felt like an age.

And as Jeff began to talk about his idea, she watched Scott share a knowing smile with Virgil and assumed they'd got a heads up on the plan. John quietly studied his father, but his face betrayed no emotion. Gordon and Alan looked firstly as though it might be an elaborate joke, then that their Father had 'lost the plot' before she saw a glimmer of excitement in their smiles.

Her heart sank a little. Her boys, her grandsons would give her so many moments of weakness by following their father's plan.


	3. A Rescue

_Perhaps should have included this before to explain that these are a series of one shots, although I might take them further at some point. Thank you for all reviews and comments. They are most appreciated. A note of caution...this chapter contains some PG language. _

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The girl in the bar had a pretty smile, it caught Scott's eye as he placed two beers on the stained linoleum table top. His closest brother wore a frown that spoke of discontentment. They'd taken a detour on their way to their Grandma's home, a quick drink together before the family reunion.

"You didn't get the contract renewal?" Scott guessed.

"Got it in one," Virgil mumbled, curling his hand around the moist brown bottle and pulling it towards him. He gazed at it glumly.

"Shit."

"Yeah. Shit."

"Something else will come up Virg, you know it always does."

"Yeah, but that was the big one. I had so many ideas, I thought they were solid. But apparently ITT has a better qualified team or some bullshit...more like they had someone on the board..." He trailed off taking a long slug from the bottle.

"Well, I might have something that might cheer you up," Scott offered. Virgil glanced up at him sceptically as he continued.

"It's about Dad." Virgil's sceptical look remained.

"Oh this sounds like it's gonna be a barrel of laughs." Scott smiled, but continued nonetheless.

"He spoke to me about an idea he'd had." Virgil paused before taking the bait and giving Scott the follow up question he knew he wanted.

"A business thing?"

"Not exactly. Don't shout me down, just hear me out. Dad wants to start a rescue business...he wants to use our skills and talents to help him make it a reality. He thinks you could work on designing rescue equipment, John can work on developing the IT required to run it and we'd all be part of this team." Virgil's bottle of beer had frozen in mid air before he cocked the side of his mouth into a small smile.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, the old man thinks it's a great idea...Grandma sat tutting at every sentence..."

"I'll bet," Virgil smiled.

"So...what do you think?" Virgil offered his bottle in a toast, tapping it against Scott's.

"I'm game if you are..."

Two years on from the light-hearted conversation in a road side bar, Scott stared at his reflection in the tiny mirror, the harsh lighting of the tiny bathroom in Thunderbird 2 accentuated the dark circles under his eyes and the lines across his forehead. He gripped the glass tumbler, taking another gulp of the deep, brown liquid. The musky flavour lingered on his tongue before he swallowed it slowly. Lowering the glass, he paused, seeing his father's same grimace momentarily in his own stern eyes.

"Scott..." Virgil's soft voice caused him to look up, watching his brother appearing just behind him in the mirror. His own eyes were tired, lacking their usual spark of amusement. The bruising appearing on his brother's cheek almost broke his heart.

"I messed up..." Scott managed, looking guiltily at the half filled tumbler.

"You found my stash..." Virgil managed a lopsided smile before holding his hand out, his eyes suddenly filling as Scott handed him the bottle. He unscrewed the lid quickly, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a painful mouthful, quickly blinking the away the misty tears that momentarily blurred his vision.

"Did you ever think Dad was serious about this?" Scott asked him after a long period of silence. Virgil wiped his hand under his nose with a soft snort.

"Yeah...I didn't think he'd get me and Brains designing state of the art equipment costing thousands...no, tens of thousands for nothing..." Scott smiled wryly and took another mouthful of his drink.

"This is disgusting Virg," he commented as he held his glass out for a refill.

"Yeah, some cheap, knock-off Johnny Walker...I can't even remember where I got it..." Virgil topped up his brothers glass by a small amount, both remembering they had two very powerful planes to pilot home.

"What a disaster," Virgil said suddenly, sinking to the floor and pulling his knees up towards his chest. He leaned his elbow on his knee and placed his hand over his eyes. The bottle rested against his leg, unnoticed and no longer wanted. Scott watched him silently as his shoulders hitched and he let a muted sob pass from clenched lips.

"You know how many were in there? How many we actually managed to save?" Virgil looked up, his eyes moist and desperate.

"I don't care...she looked at me Scott, her fingers were holding my arm so tight...she begged me to help them...and I couldn't..." Virgil let his fingers trail across the cold glass of the bottle before lifting it up, pushing himself to his feet.

"We need to start getting used to this..." Scott began, but was quickly interrupted

"Are you kidding me?" Virgil yelled suddenly, the bottle flying from his hand and shattering against the mirror. The mirror cracked, right up the middle, splitting the shocked look across Scott's face in two. Virgil's hands trembled as he stared at the amber liquid trickling down the silver walls, the shattered glass glinting in the fluorescent light.

"Oh shit...Scott, I'm sorry..." he trailed off as Scott moved towards him, pulling an unwilling Virgil into a rough embrace.

"It's me Virg...you can do this in front of me, right? It's just us..." The silence was tense before in a small voice, Virgil spoke again.

"Getting used to people dying? It's someone's kid, someone's Dad, someone's Mom..." Scott pulled him closer, running a hand into Virgil's hair as he felt his younger brother reluctantly relax into his hold.

They stood silently for a moment before Virgil eased back from his brother, taking a deep breath and managing a small smile.

"Okay?" Scott asked him.

"Let's just get home...Dad's gonna want a debrief and I don't know about you, but I want a shower..."

"Sure." Scott placed the tumbler on the floor before stepping past Virgil.

"Best clean this place up before we go," Virgil said, lifting a brush from the corner of the room and pushing the diamonds of shattered glass into the middle of the room. Scott paused as he made to leave, glancing back at Virgil.

"I know it's tough...I don't think it gets any less tough, but for every day like this, there will be ten, twenty more where we've reunited families, rescued someone's Mom, prevented disasters like this one from happening..." Scott's smile was reassuring and Virgil nodded in agreement. As always, Scott's words made perfect sense and pulled him back from the edge of despair.

"But when we get one like today, we do this, right?" Scott finished, pointing to his brother and the space around them.

"Have a meltdown?"

"That wasn't quite a meltdown Virg, more like a moment of weakness...but we chat about it, you can shout and throw stuff around if you need to." Virgil stopped his sweeping for a moment, studying his older brother for a moment.

"Thanks, I think," he half smiled. Scott cleared his throat and glanced at his watch, quickly dispersing the moment between the two.

"Right, I'm off...better get back before Dad sends out the brats as a search party. Safe flying Virg!"

"Last one back cleans both 'Birds!" Virgil called to him, placing the brush back in the corner of the room. His eyes were drawn to the cracked mirror, frowning as he wiped some of the sticky whisky from it with his sleeve.

He heard Scott firing Thunderbird One's engines and remembered his last bet with Scott. Moment of weakness forgotten, Virgil dashed to his cockpit, preparing to take off in his own ship. By the time his 'bird was ready, Scott was just a dot in the distance.

"Aw dammit," Virgil muttered to himself, but he smiled. After today, he guessed he probably owed Scott something.


	4. A Scare

The ash fell around Scott like snow. The glowing embers scattered around him belonged to a grand building, which until moments before, had stood proudly in the town square, a stark contrast to the wooden ramshackle buildings that the majority of the town's population resided in. His blue eyes were opened wide, blinding against the soot colouring his skin and clothes. His chest heaved as he looked at where the door of the building had stood, like an open mouth yelling for help, flames licking the wooden beams...the door where his brother had disappeared into only a minute before.

"Scott, we're looking for an update on the condition of the building...have all casualties been removed from the building?" John's clipped tones, ever professional cut across the background chatter and wails from the local people.

"Scott...?" After no response, John's voice trembled slightly. Scott was never at a loss...or if he was, he never showed it. Apart from with Virgil. The two of them always kept their moments of weakness between them. Scott was having one now. But this time, his confidant was inside a collapsed building, condition unknown.

He'd been annoyed at the call out. John had monitored the panicked conversations between the rescue teams in the Andean village, relaying them to the island base. All of the family knew enough Spanish to make sense of the rapidly deteriorating situation. It seemed things had got desperate and they finally called out International Rescue.

They'd been far too late. Had they had an hour, even a half hour more, they could have extinguished the flames, secured the building and evacuated those trapped.

Instead, Scott was staring at the crumbled remains, which had swallowed up his brother.

He ran towards the smouldering rubble, his eyes caught by a tiny sandal, which clearly belonged to a child. Although where that child now was, Scott didn't want to think about. His chest heaved uncertainly as he fought to contain his emotion, to maintain his professional, unruffled exterior. Inside he was screaming his brother's name, over and over and over, praying to God, Allah, Buddha...anyone, for some miracle to have saved his life.

He pulled at the rubble desperately, the smoke stinging his eyes and making them water, the heat from the bricks and wood blistering his hands.

Skin...blackened and bloody caught his eye and he pulled back suddenly.

"Virgil..." he managed to croak as he pushed the wooden beam obscuring the body...no, not a body, not the body..._his_ body.

He caught a flash of bright blue material before Scott's mind spun and he found himself stumbling away from the gruesome find and empting the contents of his stomach. Tears, not just from the smoke, poured down his cheeks and he slipped to the ground, watching the remaining rescuers begin the grim task of removing the bodies.

His Virg, his pal, his buddy, his confident, his brother, his soul mate, his life...

Virgil never failed to surprise him. The first of them to study in wonder a solo violin performance, to admire the light and shadows on a famous portrait, to dress in smart evening suits and perform breath taking piano pieces, but still slob out on the couch with a forbidden cigarette and a few bottles of Corona, his favourite indulgence.

The softest of his brothers on the inside, he had a solid exterior, was ever the professional and dependable on rescues, but let his sadness or anger after a rescue show with Scott.

Pushing his hand through sweat soaked dark hair, Scott felt a warm tear trickling down past his nose, following the contours of his face.

He had no idea how he could cope without Virgil. He couldn't deal with his moments of weakness on his own. He couldn't let any of the others see them. It would only worry them. They weren't used to a sobbing Scott.

"_Senor_?" A gentle hand against his shoulder accompanied the hoarse voice and Scott glanced up to see a soot streaked face of an elderly gentleman looking back at him.

"_Tu amigo es aqui_," he spoke, pointing to the group of temporary tents set up to accommodate the injured.

"Virgil?" Scott asked, pushing himself to his feet and making his way towards the ramshackle medical tents, walking past bloody faces, crying children, sobbing mothers...

There was a tall man huddled over in a bed. He looked awful and in pain. There was no doubt it was Virgil.

"Virgil..." Scott's voice was barely a whisper as his brother managed a lopsided smile. Virgil's head sported a large wound, which was being treated by one of the medical team. His uniform was tattered, blood stains and mud discolouring the recognisable blue. Scott could feel his hands trembling as he sat next to his brother on the cot.

"I thought you were dead..." he whispered, watching Virgil reach out to place a steadying hand against his. Hands that were covered in blood. Scott glanced up at him, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"So did I," Virgil croaked, lowering his eyes and glancing towards the shivering bundle next to him. A pair of wide blue eyes gazed back at them before a small smile crossed the face of the soot stained face of a young boy.

"You got him out..." Scott said, a smile lighting up his previously horrified face.

"Just," Virgil admitted, wincing a little as the medic treating him gave him a small injection.

"_Gracias_," Scott said to the medic before turning back to Virgil. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Scott tried to keep his words light hearted, but he failed, feeling his lips trembling and his eyes burning furiously with tears. In an image not unlike one of their first rescues, Virgil placed his hand at the back of Scott's head, easing it on to his broad shoulder.

"Virgil...I don't..." Scott protested half-heartedly, but accepted the comforting gesture, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes. He could smell the lingering smoke against Virgil's skin and choked back more tears. Virgil, obviously feeling his emotion, rubbed the top of his back.

"I might still have some of that whisky," he commented softly. Scott lifted his head, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

"I thought you'd have got rid of it by now. It was terrible..." Virgil shrugged.

"I know, but it's reserved for occasions like these...you know, when one of us has a meltdown."

"I think the exact words I used were 'moments of weakness', Virg," Scott corrected him.

"Whatever," Virgil smiled. Scott was so pleased to be able to look at a relatively happy, if a little singed, Virgil again. Virgil felt Scott gripping his hand tightly for a moment, as though fighting for control of his emotions, still feeling the rollercoaster of worry, devastation, relief and euphoria at finding his brother alive.

"It's okay," Virgil reassured him. "It's just me, you can do this in front of me. How many times have you had to sort me out after a rescue like todays?" Scott returned to sitting shoulder to shoulder on the narrow cot with his only moment of weakness. His brother.


End file.
